In your eyes, Healer of the Sick, is anything ever routine?
Where will you draw the line this time, what verdict will there be?
…everything is fine…
…we need to do further tests…
or the death sentence we all fear
…I’m sorry, but ….
Leaving the hospital my eyes lift to the mountains crowned in fog,
draw in the gentle green of trees leafing in the early Spring.
Please let me share this beauty with the one I love.
I pray for the nurses, the doctors, all the world’s healers
for clarity and wisdom as they do the work of your hands,
for the Universe to be kind, for another day, a week, a year.
The narrow bridge sways between this moment
and eternity, nothing is really under my control.
I anchor myself to the beauty of the day and to love
that is the bridge between our fragile lives and eternity.
